


Rough Day

by BabyGrinch1399



Series: white cherry [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyGrinch1399/pseuds/BabyGrinch1399
Summary: Hitman Vincent has a few close encounters on his latest mission, but it's nothing he can't handle.Figured I should put some actual stories to the characters from the kinktobers.Mat belongs to @momokos
Series: white cherry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760365
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Rough Day

The Impala screeched to a stop in front of the villa. Vincent sat in the driver's seat with his hands firmly clenched around the wheel. His eyes were closed as he took a few deep breaths. He’d been working for the inhabitants of the Combat Zone for a while now, but he still wasn’t used to killing outside of an active war zone. Swallowing his fears, he opened his eyes again and stared at his reflection in the rear view mirror. It was time to go.

Killing the ignition, Vincent stepped out of the car. Black hair blew in the wind, piercing blue eyes stared at the villa. He was wearing a white T-shirt underneath a black & purple jacket with black leather driving gloves, blue denims and black Chelsea boots. He began to walk towards the house at a quick pace, wanting to get this over and done with. 

He walked up the porch and stood in front of the door. Leaning to the left, he peered through the window to see 3 sharply dressed men playing cards together. Standing upright again, he then raised his left arm and pulled his sleeve back to look at his watch. Sighing contently, he then opened the door and entered.

Vincent entered the vestibule and came face to face with another door. He slowly swivelled his head around and faint cracking was heard followed by a groan. Looking up at the wall beside him, he saw a CCTV camera staring down at him. He stared up at it with an unreadable face. He had to get this done quickly.

Opening the door in front of him, he quietly stepped inside the hall to see a guard standing with his back to him. As Vincent was thinking about how to take him down, the man turned around and saw him. 

Both men went wide eyed as the guard pulled out a knife and went to stab Vincent, only for the hitman to bat his arm away and hook him across the face. The punch was strong enough to send the guard off his feet and onto the ground, dropping his knife in the process. 

Both men scrambled to get the blade until Vincent sat on top of him and reached out to grab the knife. Once the tool was firmly in his grasp, he delivered a single slash to the man’s throat as blood spurted out and soaked the otherwise pristine walls and floor. Vincent watched as the man struggled for a few seconds, groaning and gurgling in pain before he finally bled out and died. 

Standing up off of the corpse, he examined the blade now in his possession. Moving down the hall, he came to a door as he prepared to enter. Looking further down the hall, he saw a guard sitting by a large pair of double doors. He was undetected as the guard was sleeping, but another camera watched him from afar. 

Pressing his ear to the cold wooden door, Vincent closed his eyes as he heard the sounds of footsteps from the other side. Thinking fast, he rammed the door open and burst into the room. The corner of the door whacked a guard in the face and sent him tumbling back with a bloody nose.

The only other guard in the room rose up from his bed and went to attack the hitman who simply threw his knife into the guards eye, killing quickly and quietly. Vincent noticed the first guard trying to crawl towards his gun with a bloodied nose. Vincent quickly wrapped his arm around the guards neck and held him in a headlock before grabbing the guards sawed off double barrel that lay on the floor. 

Pulling the guard up with the barrel pressed firmly against his head, Vincent spoke in a hushed tone. “Talk… But talk quietly. How many more are there?” he asked as he backed out of the room.

Vincent backed out of the hall with the guard as a human shield. The man at the end of the hallway slowly stirred awake as he saw the commotion. “HEY!” he shouted as Vincent aimed the shotgun at him and out of instinct, fired. 

The pellets filled the guard whose blood sprayed everywhere. He let out a little yelp of pain before sliding off his chair and onto the floor, laying face down, dead in a pool of blood. A door opened as a guard walked out to see what the noise was about. He didn’t even notice Vincent standing there before his chest was ripped apart by oncoming pellets from the shotgun. 

Dropping the now useless gun, Vincent dragged the guard back to the vestibule door. Silently cursing under his breath as he could hear movement through the walls. With this struggling man now useless to him, Vincent quietly snapped his neck and let his lifeless body fall onto the floor.

He heard a door open as the 3 mobsters playing cards exited with tools at the ready. Vincent hugged the wall as he prepared to attack. 

Jumping out, he grappled the first assailant and lifted him into the air before slamming onto the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

The next mobster swung a baseball bat at him, an attack that Vincent simply ducked at before tackling him into the wall. Kicking his knees out from under him, he then moved onto the next one. 

The final man charged Vincent with a pipe and went to swing, only for Vincent to kick him in the stomach, sending him tumbling down to the ground with his head in the doorway. 

Vincent quickly grabbed the door and swung it into the man who let out a quick scream before the door slammed against his neck. A sickening crack was heard as the man fell limp, which let Vincent know that he wasn’t going to be a problem anymore.

Standing upright again, he walked back to the second mobster who was trying to stand up again but couldn’t straighten out his leg from his wounded knee and was leaning on the wall for support. Vincent silently raised his leg and kicked the man in the head, crushing his head in between Vincent’s boot and the wall. 

The first man was still laying on the floor, writhing around in pain while trying to catch his breath. Vincent looked around and saw an M16 rifle leaning against the wall. Picking it up, he approached the man who stared up at him with fear filled eyes before Vincent brought the butt of the gun down onto his face with multiple blows, killing him. 

With the M16 now in his possession, he returned to the door with the dead guard sticking out. Opening it, he saw the mobsters neck all different shades of black and blue as his head rolled to the side with a disgusting crackle. 

Entering the room, he was surprised to find it empty. A couch was pressed up against the wall as two fountains sat guarding a large bathtub filled with water. Upon closer examination, Vincent could see blood spatters and bloody footprints on the ground with some blood pools in the water. Someone here wasn’t having a good time even before he showed up.

he walked into the room where the oblivious guard came from. Inside, a mobster sat on the couch with a shotgun at the ready. He barely had any time to react before Vincent unloaded the machine gun into his chest. The bullets ripped through his flesh like tissue as blood sprayed all over the walls. Although his death was relatively quick, it was still rather brutal.

Vincent examined the M16 in his hands as he tried not to think about his time in the jungle. This was just like the rifle he became so familiar with. The sight of the bullets ripping the mobster apart brought him back to a time where he unloaded the same white hot fury into some local insurgents. He was never truly out of the jungle. 

Approaching the stairs, he kept his grip tight on the rifle. Taking another look up at the cameras that watched him, his bloody appearance surely a threatening sight. He ascended up the stairs.

As he reached the top, he saw a mobster standing on full alert with a rifle by a pool table. Knowing that stealth was out the window, Vincent aimed the M16 at the guard and opened fire. 

The rounds tore through him like they did the other victim downstairs and threw his body onto the pool table. From the door next to him, 3 guards burst out and came to attack, along with one from down the hall and another from a room beside him, all meeting the same fate as the one prior- with bellies full of lead. 

Dropping the empty rifle, Vincent picked up a discarded shotgun peeked through the door where the 3 guards came from, finding the room empty, he then approached the other door and entered the room where he then unloaded on two mobsters; one of whom was sitting on the couch and the other who was guarding another door. 

Approaching the door, he kicked it open, nearly knocking it off his hinges as he entered what appeared to be a dining room where the final two mobsters stood. They didn’t even have time to raise their guns before Vincent blew them away.

Descending back down the stairs with the shotgun in one hand, the barrel dragging off each step, he returned to the first floor where he heard a voice booming through the intercoms. “Guess I gotta do everything myself, huh?” 

Vincent heard the double doors down the hall opening before heavy footsteps followed. Remaining in the room, Vincent aimed his shotgun at the door furthest to him, waiting.

The hitman’s ears perked when he heard the door beside him burst open as a large African-American charged him and tackled him. Lifting him up into the air and throwing him across the room.

Vincent lay on the carpeted floor as he groaned, trying to pull himself up and fight back. Only for the boss’ thick hands to grab him by his collar and toss him around the room some more. 

The boss was known as a brute among his subordinates and rivals. His height and weight were otherwise unmatched and those before Vincent found out the hard way just how he handled assassins. 

Getting thrown around the room was taking its toll on the young hitman whose face was painted red with blood. After getting his face pounded and tossed about some more, Vincent acted fast. 

He dove towards his discarded shotgun and picked it up, aiming at the boss. Firing a single shot into his chest, the boss staggered back before laughing maniacally. Vincent’s confused face turned into a frown when he noticed the bullets had only poked holes in the outer layer of his Kevlar vest. “You’re in trouble now, little boy.” the boss let out a somewhat sexual growl with drool dripping down his chin before Vincent aimed and fired another round into him. 

The boss staggered back again and actually fell to the ground before rising back up. He let out another laugh at Vincent whose shotgun clicked empty. When the boss took his first step, his face fell as he wobbled on the spot before staggering around and falling back onto the floor, coughing up blood as some of Vincent’s pellets had pierced his Kevlar and burrowed themselves deep into his flesh. 

Vincent finally pulled himself up and stood with his back to the boss to let out an exhausted sigh. Dropping the shotgun, he turned to face the man who was now at his mercy.

Silently approaching him with a face full of contempt, Vincent stood over the man who coughed and tried to sit upright. Tears stained his cheeks as blood flowed from in between his lips as he begged for mercy. “Oh God…” he coughed. “Please, Don’t!”

His pleads fell unanswered upon deaf ears as Vincent used his foot to push him back onto the ground before he sat himself upon the man’s chest. His gloved hands wrapped around the man’s head as his thumbs found themselves above his eyes. The man screamed and cried as Vincent pushed his thumbs deep into his sockets. Blood pooling around the leather clad fingers and spilling onto the ground below. The man squirmed and thrashed, only held still by Vincent’s weight on his chest as he dug his thumbs deeper into his eyes. When that wasn’t enough, Vincent began to repeatedly bash the man’s head off the ground with his thumbs still in his eyes. Blood, skull fragments and brain chunks were smeared onto the floor as Vincent stood up after wiping the blood and goo from his thumbs onto the boss’ shirt. 

Stepping out of the room, Vincent pressed his head against the blood stained wall and let out a deep, anguished sigh. Turning his head to the now open double doors, he saw a dark room with a light pouring out. 

His curiosity got the better of him as he stumbled down the hall and entered the room to find that it was all black from the ceiling to the floor. To the right, a chair sat with a large black blazer draped over it and a box of popcorn with the contents spilled out and scattered across the floor. 

The light came from a row of monitors that showed live recordings of the hallway and other rooms, showing off the numerous dead bodies that filled the house. 

To the left, large studio lights and expensive cameras surrounded a king sized bed where a young, frail looking skeletal man was seen lying half awake. Scattered on the bed were used needles and condoms and a pair of handcuffs. It didn’t take Vincent a lot of thinking to realise what was happening here. 

The silver haired skeleton’s teal eyes fluttered open as he weakly looked up at Vincent. His face was caked in make-up that had been smeared severely. His red lipstick smudged across his mouth and his black eyeliner running down his cheeks from his tears. He wore the most revealing, skimpy lingerie that barely covered any skin. A tiny bra that only covered his nipples and thin panties that was evidently not designed for what he had down there. A cat like tail poked out from the panties behind, and it took Vincent only a second to realise where it was coming from.

“Yeah… Just get it over with…” he croaked. “...I knew it would end like this…”

Vincent said nothing. He simply turned around to leave but stopped. Looking down at the ground, he seemed to have a moment of clarity. Turning back to the wounded bird on the bed, he unzipped his jacket and threw it over his frail body before lifting him up into his arms in a bridal style. 

He was frighteningly light. Chalk white skin and needle marks in the crooks of his elbows painted a sorrowful picture as Vincent grabbed a duffel bag full of clothes that could only have belonged to the boy and flung it over his shoulder before he walked down the now red painted hallway.

The whore’s teal eyes struggled to stay open as he saw the carnage his saviour had inflicted upon the residents here. He remembered each one of their faces and remembered the horrible, vile acts they enacted upon him all for the promise of another hit. To see them all mutilated and brutalised, filled him with a sense of joy. 

As Vincent stepped outside, the cold air hit them both like a ton of bricks. Goosebumps forming on the whore’s skin as a chill went down his spine. The last thing he remembered was being fastened into the shotgun seat of the Impala before succumbing to drowsiness and passing out.

Vincent sat in the driver's seat with his hands firmly gripping the wheel again. Taking another look at the whore, he sighed softly before sticking the keys in the ignition. “The fuck are you doing, Vince?” he whispered to himself as he started his baby up and drove away from the villa, leaving his mess behind. He was gonna go to his boss to tell them about the successful mission and go home, but not before stopping off to get some food for the whore, and stopping by a bar, he needed a drink.


End file.
